Interlude: Hearthfire
by Mina Glasse
Summary: READ "BROTHERHOOD" FIRST. This is an interim piece to bridge the gap between the events of "Brotherhood" and its upcoming sequel, "Dragonborn." It will be fluffy, domestic, somewhat dramatic, and expository. Full summary inside.
1. Part One

_Author's Note:_

_READ __**"BROTHERHOOD"**__ FIRST._

_This is an in-between piece to bridge the gap between the events of Brotherhood and the events of Dragonborn. Originally, "Hearthfire" was going to be the first chapter of Dragonborn… but… I dunno… I've begun to think it might be more fun to publish it as a standalone work: One, because it's very fluffy and domestic and stuff; Two, because no part of it handles with the events of the Dragonborn DLC… like… at all; Three, because there will be a lot of time skips and I don't think I want to smush them all into a single chapter._

**_This will be a multi-chapter piece. _**_I will post things as I perfect them (and, yes, I am currently working on Dragonborn)._

_For my readers who prefer gore and drama over fluff and family stuff and sexy times: this piece may or may not give you a cavity. I would suggest, in any event, that you at least skim through it to get a gist of the stage I'm setting for Dragonborn._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Interlude: Hearthfire (1)**

_6 Last Seed, 4E205_

The conversation starts at breakfast and lasts long into the night. I'll admit we kind of drug our feet getting to it—three days later and we're only talking about it now—but, in a way, I guess we just needed the time.

It's funny how quickly I've accepted her back. Then again, I know myself too well to be surprised. I think about this while I look at her and her gut-wrenchingly pretty face. For a long while, I'd tried to move on. She was dead, after all… or at least we all thought she was.

It was Corinna who made it difficult, but that's understandable considering how much mother and daughter look like one another. Every time I looked at Corinna's face, I saw Amara's. I'd started getting used to the idea that Amara, dead or alive, was probably a permanent fixture in our lives and I'd probably never get over her.

And then she just strolled through the College gates that one random morning three days ago, flipping my world upside down all over again.

I pack my pipe and light it, happy for the simple comfort of an old habit, and watch Amara from the corner of my eye as she talks between sips of tea. I've missed hearing the sound of her voice. I've always liked it, even before I came into my own as a werewolf and my senses weren't even a quarter as keen as they are now. She's generally soft-spoken and has an Imperial accent that she always tries to hide, though it grows thicker whenever she's upset or passionate. It's very pleasant to listen to, especially with the sharp hearing I have nowadays.

Much of my attention is still focused on Corinna, though, who's playing with Duran and her dolls on the floor. I swear I'dve gotten rid of that stupid dog if he weren't so good at keeping her entertained.

Amara's tale is incredible, and that's putting it lightly. I listen quietly while she lays it out for Leon and me, a little hesitant and halting, which tells me that she's probably smoothing certain parts over because she doesn't want to think too much about them. I give a start when she tells us about her entrance into the Hall of Valor.

"Svenja…?" I repeat, just because I can't believe it. It makes sense that they'd be in Sovngarde, sure, but that doesn't make the news any less unnerving.

"Yes, along with your friends Bjarn, Tobias, and Ulfgar. I doubt I could have defeated Alduin without them." She's clearly uncomfortable with saying this—I can hear it in her heartbeat—but it can't really be helped. Their deaths will be on her hands no matter what she does and no matter how much we argue.

Though I'll admit… it's kind of comforting to hear about this one last deed they've gotten to put under their belts. It doesn't bring them back from the dead, but it is nice.

She pulls a folded letter from one of her pockets. "This," she says quietly, "is for Hroar. I believe she took some paper and ink from my satchel while I was… incapacitated." She turns it over in her hands once, then twice, before returning it to the same pocket. "I will… give it to him in the morning."

There's something… _off_… about the look on her face. I wonder if I should ask her about it later.

She continues her tale, then. Her description of the aftermath of the battle is sickening. This is where I'm sure she's skipping details, but I don't push her overmuch. She'll say more when she wants to. It bothers me a lot to hear that something, even if it's an ancient rogue god, could reach into Amara's head like that and use all her memories and fears against her. It bothers me even more that _I_ was allegedly a big part of that ploy… or my voice and likeness were, anyway.

"Do you know why he did that to you, though?" I ask. "I mean, yeah, to make you stop fighting. But what would've happened if you'd stopped? Would his soul go back to his body like last time?"

She's quiet for a minute. "I think," she says finally, "I would have become a… vessel, of sorts. I had broken his body utterly, more so than when we fought him atop the Throat of the World. He had nothing to return to. Just before I broke free, he tried to convince me that _I_ am, in fact, the World-Eater."

"You… aren't now, are you?" I can't stop myself from asking her. She'd absorbed him, after all. If I understand this Dragonborn thing right, then that means she's absorbed the World-Eater's power.

"I took him in. I… do not hunger for souls, if that is what you mean to ask me," she answers, her eyes fixed on her tea. "My current theory is that, had I succumbed, Alduin would have gained control of my body. My will overcame his, however. I cannot feel his consciousness anymore, as happens with every dragon I absorb. But give me some more time to reflect and I will perhaps have a more detailed answer for you."

"Fair enough." I take a long, smooth pull on my pipe. She certainly doesn't _look_ like she's about to sprout black wings and eat all of creation, so I guess I'll be content with that for now.

"Though I am, ah… unsure if he truly held my mind for two years," she continues. "Time is near-impossible to measure in Aetherius, as there are no known regular seasons or planetary cycles. Some believe that time does not move there at all. I thought I had been gone for no more than a few weeks, so the truth was very… jarring." Her explanation is probably more for my benefit than Leon's, since I barely know the first thing about magic, even after living at the College of Winterhold all these years.

"That did occur to me some time after you had left," says Leon thoughtfully. "I would not call myself an expert, but I did wonder if there was some sort of discrepancy in time between realms. But we had no means to measure it: by the time the idea came to me, our sole bridge to Aetherius was long gone."

"Yes, now that you make mention of this _bridge_, I do have a few of my own questions for you." Her eyes flicker to Corinna for just a second, who's getting a little noisy. Then she rests her teacup on its saucer with a muted _clink_. "I would very much like to know how you have reached that conclusion… that is, if my turn to be interrogated is finished."

Leon laughs. "I am sure you do, _Mara mea_. Shall I begin with the obvious and work backward?" He makes a casual gesture at his robes.

"Please do, _Arch-Mage_."

"Well…" he begins kind of searchingly, glancing in my direction.

What, does he expect me to help him tell his ridiculous story? "Don't look to me for help. I had no idea what the hell was going on half the time, except for the fact that my daughter's life was endangered by magical poltergeists and an insane Thalmor splinter group."

"By _what_?" I swear I see Amara's eyes flash. I'm not sure if it's normal, even for a mage like her. I catch it because I've got good vision, but I don't think Leon does. I fix on her, wondering if I'd just imagined it, but it doesn't happen again.

Still, the sudden outburst startles Corinna, who starts whimpering. I put my pipe down and get out of my seat before anyone else can react, as usual having been the first to hear it, and I pick her up and let her crush her little face against my shoulder before sitting myself back down. I try to comfort and shush her, sure, but I've learned that this kind of thing always takes one kind of course: the whimpering gets louder until she suddenly goes completely quiet, and I hold her snug against my chest, lean back, and wait for the inevitable.

Amara, of course, looks absolutely flustered, and only gets worse when Corinna suddenly breaks her silence and really begins to wail. Obviously she feels bad and has no idea what to do. "Oh… oh now, _ocelle_, I did not intend…" She trails off, at a loss.

"It's alright," I soothe, though whether I'm talking to Amara or Corinna is hard to say.

I can smell stress as it comes to take hold of her and I can practically see the storm of thoughts surging behind those pretty blue eyes. She leans a little toward us, unsure if she should try talking again.

Secretly, I'm very close to finding this situation funny… in a black-humor kind of way. She's a respectable tactician and always seems to know at least _something_ about everything, but now, finally, it looks like she's met her match. My humor doesn't come from spite, though. I don't actually want her to look so helpless as she does now.

So I throw her a bone. "The trick is distraction," I say just loud enough to be audible over Corinna's wailing.

Her brow furrows as she tries to turn my hint into something useful. "With… what?"

"_Mara mea_," Leon says lowly, "watch." He opens his palm and releases a very small amount of sparkling—and, _according to him_, harmless—magic. "Corinna," he coos, "_ocelle_, look! I am going to play chase with Duran."

The dog perks up at the sound of his own name while I do my best to draw Corinna's attention to her uncle. Success comes gradually, of course.

"_Ocelle_, look!" Leon says dotingly while he directs the magic toward the floor with two fingers, creating a kind of narrow spotlight. This catches Corinna's attention, because as soon as the light hits the floor, Duran lunges for it.

I guess I can see why my kid thinks this is so funny: the dog follows the magical light to wherever Leon points it next, never quite getting it that he'll never be able to catch his prey. In any event, her high-pitched wailing soon gives over to fits of giggling. I bounce her on my knee and look over to Amara, who's watching the whole scene with a cryptic sort of expression.

"Hey," I say, and her eyes flicker to me. "No one's expecting you to master motherhood in a few days. Try not to get all twisted. You're brooding so loudly I swear I can almost hear it."

One corner of her mouth twitches. "With your senses, that would come as no surprise."

A great peal of laughter erupts from the kid in my lap and she starts squirming, so I set her down on her feet. Then she climbs up onto Leon's knee, with his help, of course, and grabs his wrist, wanting to help direct Duran's pointless chase.

I take the opportunity to move my chair closer to Amara's and put my arm around her shoulders. She leans against me, but her eyes are still on our daughter. "Tell me what you're thinking," I say quietly.

She doesn't respond immediately. She isn't really used to getting this kind of request from me, since I'd only just recently gotten it into my head that I should try making it. For practically the whole time I've known her, I've been able to see that what she says is usually only a fraction of what she thinks. I don't necessarily want to get inside her head, as I understand it's kind of a scary place, but I do want her to be open with me.

"I am…" she sighs, "I am out of my depth. That I love her is not a question, but I feel like a giant who has been entrusted with the care of a fragile egg. It is… frighteningly easy to cause harm."

I press my face against her hair. Her scent, like her voice, is unique and very pleasant: it's a subtle perfume, almost spicy and maybe a little bit like incense, but not exactly. When I woke up this morning, I thought for a minute that I'd only dreamed of smelling her on my pillow, as had happened far too often during the years she was gone, but then…

I smirk and inhale again.

But then, I heard her in the main room. I got up to see her sitting with Corinna in front of the hearth—which surprised me, honestly, because I _always_ hear it when Corinna gets up—and she was trying her damndest to engage the kid in polite conversation.

"I feel that way all the time," I remind her.

A delicate hand moves to caress my knee. I don't mean for it to happen, not exactly, but I squirm in my seat as soon as Amara touches me. I can almost _hear_ her brow raising. "I see your sense of timing is unchanged."

I can feel my ears heating up. "Uh… sorry."

It's hard to blame me, though! Sounds and imagery from the previous two nights are already rushing around in my head, and by Talos, it's impossible to ignore.

Yeah, her scent was all over my pillow this morning… and all over my bed… and all over _me_. Once the shock of the first day and night had kind of worn off, it was all we could do not to tear each other apart. I lick my lips and try _not_ to think about how I had to shove her face into a pillow just so she wouldn't wake the kid up. Or how—

"_Lydia_," she scolds me in a whisper.

I want to laugh. Is my expression that obvious? "It's better than your brooding." I kiss her temple. "Come on. Give Leon a break and pick her up. I promise she won't run away screaming."

She does as I suggest, if a little gingerly. Corinna isn't happy to have her game stopped, but is soon distracted again with a small plate of crackers and some milk. Leon re-heats his tea while I get some water for Duran, and I watch, from the corner of my eye, how Amara holds her daughter in a way that's all at once tense and secure. She really wasn't kidding when she admitted that she has no idea how to interact with children.

But she's trying and it's really… _cute_. Knowing everything that I do about her—well-bred noble, double-crossing cold-bitch ex-assassin-queen, Dragonborn of legend, and the range of social and emotional issues—it's honestly endearing to watch her eat crackers from our kid's grubby little hands just to indulge her.

"Our father used to play such games with you when you were that small. Do you remember?" Leon resumes the conversation after another minute.

I knock my pipe and refill it, but I don't light it. I don't like smoking while Corinna's sitting at the table. My hands just need something to fiddle with.

"Not at all." She helps Corinna take a sip of milk. I know she's troubled and I know she's inexperienced and nervous, but I swear, the sight is killing me. I've waited for years to see it, I've hoped and prayed. I must be grinning like an idiot.

"How sad," he replies, wistful. "His stories were wonderful. I would have imitated them for Corinna, had I any talent for storytelling. Really, you do not remember them at all? He used to magick little shadow figures upon the wall to illustrate the tale as he spun it. It was the only time you and Cato could be kept in the same room without fighting."

"If by _fighting_ you mean _Cato pulling my hair_ or _Cato melting my toys_. But… yes, now that you mention the shadow figures, a few vague memories come to mind." She runs an absentminded finger through Corinna's mess of curls, frowning, I think, at my inability to care for them properly. "But, more importantly, the both of you were telling me about… poltergeists and Thalmor, was it?"

Leon sighs. "There was an… affair, of sorts, regarding the Eye of Magnus and a visiting Thalmor representative named Ancano. Oh, and we also encountered the Psijic Order. It was quite the adventure."

Amara's jaw nearly drops open, but she catches herself, ever the lady. "The _Psijic Order_?"

"And more besides. Are you comfortable?"

I reach over and pull a piece of cracker from Amara's hair, which Corinna had thought it funny to toss. She doesn't say anything, doesn't slump or get all indignant. Ever the lady. Her voice stays soft and smooth as ever: "I suppose I am."

* * *

_Author's Note, Part 2:_

_1\. From here on out, I'm about 98% sure I'll be writing from Lydia's POV. It's a change of pace, a different feel, register, and writing style. We spent all of Brotherhood looking at my universe through Amara's eyes… now we'll look through Lydia's. _

_2\. _Ocelle_ is, as I'm sure we've guessed, a Latin term of endearment. It means "little eye" (understood to mean something like "apple of my eye"... ish)._

_3\. I realize that cats are most commonly thought to be the house pet that will chase after a laser light... But I have two dogs and they both do it too. And it's hilarious._

_4\. I didn't write out Leon's experience with the College of Winterhold questline because… umm… we already know what happens from playing the game and… I didn't feel like it. :)_

_Until next time,_

_AE_

_P.S.: This is nonprofit fun, Bethesda. I'm taking your intellectual property and making it weird. All for free, and out of the nerdness of my heart._


	2. Part Two

**Interlude: Hearthfire (2)**

_1 Heartfire, 4E205_

We're not a normal couple. Never have been, never will be.

We're free to just be _together_ now, without worry of dragons or the wrath of a god against all creation. We're free to bicker and argue over much more unimportant things, mundane things. We've beaten most of the other issues to death, though they still sometimes come up.

She's a murderer. She's a murderer several times over. Many of my closest friends lost their lives at her hand, and even though they weren't actually her targets, they died _in defense_ of her target, _in defense_ of law and order and fair combat. Tobias had been burnt beyond all recognition. I'd dug his grave myself.

One night, when Leon was watching Corinna for us, Amara offered, flat-out, to give me a list of every single one of her victims. She offered just because I wouldn't stop grumbling about it. She started writing it. Five names in, I grabbed her hand and told her to stop. _Just stop_. I didn't want to know.

She walked away from that life for my sake. She never talks about it. She never says she misses it and, really, I don't believe she does. She's different now and she wants to stay that way.

So I grabbed her hand that night, made her stop, swept the desk clear, and threw her on it.

I used to love this woman, then I used to _hate_ how much I loved this woman… now I just love her more than could be considered sane. Amara Leone Aestus of Cyrodiil, ex-Listener, Dragonborn. She's arguably the most powerful mortal in Tamriel and has a _legitimate_ claim to the Ruby fucking Throne.

I threw her legs over my shoulders and made her come three times in a row that night.

I guess it's the same for her. She didn't ask for me, and I don't even mean my lycanthropy. I mean getting paired up with the Captain of the Whiterun Guard, _me_, after having just gotten done killing all my friends. It's not like she could have told me the truth outright… not at that time, anyway.

Sure, she was in the wrong no matter what, but right and wrong don't determine matters of circumstance, and it was circumstance that had thrown us together. She'd even tried dismissing me and I'd refused. In hindsight it's kind of astonishing that she didn't just kill me outright.

She could have done it, and still can. She could do it _easily_, and that's even with my lycanthropy. Even with the animal violence I try so hard to suppress, the mood swings, the occasional slip-up, all my many dangerous imperfections.

She's the most powerful, deadly, infuriating, beautiful, fucked-up woman in Tamriel, and right now, as on that night, my face is between her thighs.

Neither one of us was expecting to fall in love, not like this. She's bent forwards and backwards and walked to the ends of hell to prove to me that she's sincere and guilty and sorry. Anything to prove that I could justifiably love someone who'd violated my trust so completely. And I do, I love this woman. I shouldn't trust her at all, but I do. _Now_ I do, anyway. I trust her more than anyone else in the world. It's what happens when you forge a bond in battle.

She trusted me with her life. Me, after everything. Me, the werewolf. She trusted me with her baby. _Me_, who she had to break out of jail for accidentally going berserk and ripping a little girl to shreds. _Me_, though I'm technically a cannibal and have no real intention of finding a cure—making me a hypocrite twice over—and yet, my dangerous, hungry mouth is right where she wants it.

And she trusts me with it, that most sacred, most sensitive part of her body. Tonight, she lets me treat her like prey. I told her, once, that the phases of the moons affect me sexually. Circumstance never gave us the opportunity to explore this before now.

But now…

Now we're forced to use Illusion magic to soundproof the room, because there'll be a scandal otherwise. And probably a traumatized child.

There are nights when she and I make love, when we're sweet and gentle and take our time, and I let her touch me without contest, and such an intense feeling of love swells in my chest that I think I might burst.

Tonight is not one of those nights.

Tonight, she's pulling my hair hard enough for it to hurt. Tonight, I've got nail marks running down my back. I love the way she tastes. She comes for me, warm and wet, and I feel how all her inner muscles clench and flutter and suck on my fingers as I move up to kiss her and make her taste herself. But I don't stop. I don't want to stop until I draw her out again and make her say _please_.

It's about dominance, the pleasure brought about by captured prey. I tempt myself by grazing my teeth over the skin of her neck. I want to bite her, hard. Not to eat her or anything like that, but to _mark_ her. I nip her flesh and she moans and throws her arms around my neck, pulling me in close. "Is that an invitation?" I growl against her jaw.

Her spine arches when I thrust deep and change my pace. Her hand wanders down my stomach. "A-Ah… let me…" I nip, she hisses. I thrust, she moans. "Lydia let me touch you!"

I want it. I can feel that easily enough: the empty, aching pull. Wanna rut and do anything to fill it, ease it.

_Too exposed_.

I force her hand back down to the bed and give her very little space to think up a countermeasure. But she's smart. Smarter than me, anyway. Even as my pace becomes punishing, there's something to be said about the wits and stamina of the Dragonborn. I'm on my back before I know what the hell's going on and she's suddenly riding me from above, giving me a full view and—_gods_—this woman is breathtaking.

But I want that… _flesh_. I pull her down: our breasts press flush, her neck and jaw are near my mouth again, and she's on her knees still, giving me enough leverage to keep thrusting. I taste her skin: sweat, salt, sex.

Do I dare?

But it's like she can read my mind: "Come." And she pulls all her hair to one side. "_Come!_"

Amara. My Amara. It was me who was first sworn to carry your burdens. I don't know exactly when you began carrying mine in turn. You'll be wearing scarves and high-necked robes for the rest of your life.

But every time you look down and see this mark, you'll remember how hard you came when I bit you.

As everything in me surges with the euphoria and thrill of such a bold act of possession, my Amara is writhing in pleasure and pain, grinding against my palm with complete abandon. _Mine_. She's mine. Her heart. Her body. Freely given—no, _ordering_ me to take her, _ordering_ me to bite down, thrust inside, rub up outside, taste her, love her and claim her. _Mine_.

She cries out, stiffens, loosens, then collapses on me, and there's blood on my tongue. I enjoy it, but I'll keep that to myself. No need to say the painfully obvious.

But then… at the same time, the part of me that feels more human is suddenly getting a little… squeamish. Usually there's no inner battle with this kind of thing, the need I feel to taste flesh and blood. But this isn't just anyone's blood. It's Amara's.

She makes to move after a minute or two, probably to kiss me and give me a turn like she wanted to do before, but she winces and grabs at the spot where her neck meets her shoulder. Her hand pulls away a little bloody. She could cast healing magic on it, but she doesn't… probably because she thinks it'll make me happier to leave the bite as-is.

Shit.

I'm going to regret this is the morning.

Swallowing thickly, I grab my shirt off the floor and press it to the bite. The bleeding's not that bad at all, so this is really more about the gesture than what little good the shirt actually does her. "You can heal it," I tell her quietly. "Actually, I want you to."

A flash of soft magic and the bleeding's gone when I pull my makeshift bandage away, but that's as far as it goes. The mark itself is permanent: a final warning to any werewolf bold enough to ignore the fact that Amara's covered in my scent. She traces it with the tips of her fingers, now sitting upright and straddling my lower abdomen. "Judging by the look on your face, I would assume you want the bed to open up and swallow you right now."

"A little, yeah," I admit, mostly just waiting to see what her real reaction will be.

Her hair is all mussed up from sex. She flicks it over her shoulder, for all the good it does her. "Tell me honestly," she says, smooth as silk, as her hips roll a bit forward and I _feel_ her, warm and wet, against my belly. Really, there's something to be said about the stamina of the Dragonborn. "When you look at this, how does it make you feel? I want the truth."

"Hot," my mouth says before my head can catch up. I lick my lips. "And _very_ bothered." Because it's true. Just to see and smell and taste how much and how thoroughly I've claimed this woman—this infuriating, complicated, stunning, intelligent, powerful, fascinating woman—is incredibly fulfilling. And arousing.

She leans over a little more and brushes one of her fingers over my lips. "Well, Lydia, the mark is not one-sided. I would lean forward and bite you back if I had no concerns about ingesting your blood." She kisses me while I shiver at the idea behind her words. Amara, a wolf like me? I'll admit I like the idea, but it also doesn't really… suit her. "Hmm," she hums against my lips, "I could brand you."

I sigh, a little relieved by her playful tone, and caress her lower back and whatever I can reach of her backside. "Why not just be extravagant and put a tattoo on my ass?"

"_Is that an invitation?_" She asks me, mimicking my tone from earlier.

"I'll think about it," I humor her, though I know I would go through with it if she really wanted me to. It's only fair, I guess. Besides, the issue here has nothing to do with fidelity: time and experience have proven that she's the only partner I'll ever want. I kiss her again. "So you're… alright?"

She smiles against my lips. "How easily you change from beast to woman and back again. And here I had assumed you would not need my reassurances until sunrise."

I ignore her tease and take a second or two to think. "You know they're not actually separate, right?" I finally ask her. "I mean, I know we talk about it that way because it's easier, but you know the animal and the human are kind of the same thing, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she replies softly. "You know I have been studying all that I can of werewolves. I understand, at least in an academic sense, what it means to be born with lycanthropy." She kisses me again, warm and loving, gentle and sweet in the way that all our other kisses tonight haven't been. Even now, when I'm supposed to be wild with lust under the full moons, she still manages to make me feel that tingly tight-and-swollen-chest feeling.

I smirk into the kiss. What a woman. "Then you know," I say as I tap the mark on her shoulder with a finger, "that I'm probably not going to try to cure it. I just…" I huff through my nose, at a slight loss for words. _Right now_ probably isn't even the best time to be having this conversation, but I guess that's just another example of why Amara likes to tease me for my sense of timing.

"A cure might harm you in a way that curing non-hereditary _Sanies Lupinus_ would not," she finishes for me. "As you have no way of knowing, you would rather not risk it."

"That's a way of saying it." I pull her against my chest. "Thanks for being so, uh…" I search for the right word again.

"Accommodating?" She offers.

I hum an agreement and tangle my fingers into her wonderful, fiery, sex-wild hair. I can still feel the press of her loins on my stomach and the demanding heat of her body. The familiar pleasurable haze comes back again and begins its inevitable, steady rise. I inhale: her scent is intoxicating. "Something else on your mind, love?" I provoke her.

She leans up and gives me a look that I can only describe as… indecent. I feel another shot of heat in response. "Perhaps there is," she purrs, gorgeous and sultry as she comes down again to kiss my neck and jaw. My fingers wander up her back and shoulders while she shifts and makes room for her hand to wander down my belly. I sigh with pleasure. "Oh yes, I think there is."

We're not a normal couple. A lot of people might say that our bond is actually pretty unhealthy, if not outright ridiculous, but we can support each other in ways that no one else ever could.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_I finally got to so something that I've wanted to do for a long time now: get inside Lydia's head and crunch through all the many complications posed by the plot of Brotherhood. _

_All things considered, this installment was an exercise in restraint for me: How could I touch on everything she felt and yet avoid rehashing the entire plot? As ever, I opted to combine pain with action. At the heart of things, Amara and Lydia are simply able to comfort one another in a way that no other lover could._

_I would love to know your thoughts on this. _

_Until next time,_

_AE_


	3. Part Three

**Interlude: Hearthfire (3)**

_12 Second Seed, 4E206_

The nightmares didn't start until several months after her return.

Honestly, my only surprise is that they took this long to start coming around. I know what it's like to be a soldier. I've seen many brave and strong men return from horrific battles and crumble within days, all of them suffering just like Amara does sometimes.

She tries to hide it or at least play it down, but by now I've had the time to become uniquely attuned to her. She can't keep very much from me anymore: I can't feel what she feels, not exactly, but if something's going on with her, I'm almost always going to know about it. My ability to smell stress and fear still doesn't make me a mind-reader, though, so the catch is getting her to tell me exactly _what_.

It's not every night, and even then, it's not always catastrophic. Sometimes she's able to wake herself up without thrashing or screaming.

And sometimes I'm afraid she'll never come out of it.

Tonight's a mild one… or mild enough, anyway. She's hunched over and sweating, breathing hard, knuckles white, fingers gripping the sheets around her waist. I saw the little flash in her eyes again when she shot up and opened them, the same one I'd seen before. Even if I don't know what it is, at least now I know I'm not imagining things.

I'm not going to bring it up, though. Not now.

I know not to say anything. My job, right now, is to listen for Corinna. Sometimes her mother's nightmares are loud enough to wake her up, and sometimes they aren't. But soon enough, I hear a pair of little feet hit the floor of the adjacent room. I get out of bed to intercept her.

"No," Amara says in a harsh tone, stopping me in my tracks. I'm reminded, just a little, of her Thu'um. "No, I want to… see her face."

Corinna's already pushing the door open before I can reply or do anything else. I don't say anything, I just help her up onto the bed and watch as she crawls into Amara's lap. Kids tend to have a weird kind of intuition, I'm learning: the two of them are connected, no matter how awkward Amara is. Corinna knows it even if Amara doesn't.

"I heard you, Mama."

She buries her face in her daughter's hair. "Pardon me, _ocelle_… I hope I did not frighten you."

She used to. Corinna's gotten used to it by now.

"No." Her little arms wrap around Amara's neck. "All better?"

Amara laughs softly through her nose. "With so adept a healer, I have no choice but to feel better." They cuddle tighter together. "Thank you, my darling."

* * *

_15 Midyear, 4E206_

"I will admit I feel a little silly all of a sudden," she says suddenly and with a smile, which I see when I look up to where she's sitting at the table.

I'm on the floor with Corinna, trying to help her with… whatever it is that she's trying to draw. All we've really managed to do is get ourselves covered in six different colors of charcoal. I honestly have no idea how that happened. "How come?"

She leans back in her seat and regards me for a second. The table is covered in books and papers, half of them in languages I don't recognize, as she's seen it fit to try her hand at being a scholar again. "It has only just occurred to me that you write with your left hand. I wonder why I failed to notice it before."

I smirk. "Probably because the constant threat of dragons and who-knows-what-else left my hands wanting a sword instead of a pen. Or, well, these charcoal things—" I cut off mid-sentence to turn my head and sneeze when Corinna suddenly smacks the paper and a cloud of dust flies up my nose. "Oh, hey now—!" I start scolding her, but another sneeze cuts me off again.

Now the kid's just laughing at me.

"Darling, you look like an urchin," Amara says as she gets up to get a washcloth, trying to hide her own mirth. I _would_ say something in return, but I'm trying not to sneeze again. Then she's crouching down in front of me and wiping dust from my face.

I turn my head and sneeze again, but I think it's the last one, thank the gods. "Returning to my roots, I guess," I mumble and snort in a very impolite, very urchin-like way. Then I smirk at her cross-armed, silently-scolding expression and tease: "_Oh_-a Lydia! You-a offend my-a delicate sens-a-bilities with-a your nose-blowing! I am-a well-a-mannered-a rich girl!"

"You wretch!" She smacks me on the arm, but it's light and she isn't actually angry. "I do _not_ sound so absurd as that!"

She doesn't, she really actually doesn't, but it's still a great source of fun for me. "You-a wretch-a!" I mock, grinning. "How-a dare—!"

I'm already sitting on the floor, but she tackles me anyway, cutting me off mid-sentence. "Let us hear you speak _my_ language, eh? All your flat vowels and—" Then she's also cut off by the little body that launches itself onto her back, giggling. But she rolls with it, laughing along, and reaches behind herself to pull Corinna between us, careful not to put too much weight on her.

"Your flat vowels and lack of rhythm!" She continues, all while Corinna's overjoyed at all the energy and hanging on her neck. "I daresay our daughter and all her multilingual babbling sounds still more refined! Would you not say so, _ocelle_?" She rolls off of me, onto her own back, taking the kid with her. She doesn't even seem to mind that she's getting covered in charcoal dust.

Corinna's absolutely thrilled. She squirms and squeals with laughter while Amara tickles her sides and talks to her in fluid, amused _Latine_.

"_Ey, desiste!_" The little girl squeals in her usual language-soup: "Get Ma, _me non_!"

My accent might be a disaster, but I understand the language perfectly. I begin to inch away as Amara turns her head toward me and gives me a look that's just _wicked_. "Ma?" She leers at me. "Oh of course. _Ma_." She whispers the next bit into Corinna's ear, but I still hear it: "I will need your help."

I'm scrambling to my feet and running away before I can think twice, Amara and Corinna hot on my heels and Duran barking after all of us. And why not? These little games make the kid so damn happy and they make Amara look so… unburdened, you could say.

Like she hasn't got something shadowy and painful crawling around that head of hers.

Like she doesn't have a long, complicated past that haunts her every day.

Like, for just a little while, she can be _young_.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_Thanks for reading. :)_


	4. Part Four

**Interlude: Hearthfire (4)**

_8 Sun's Height, 4E206_

"I love you," she whispers against my neck, trembling a little no matter how tightly I hold her. "I love you, I love you, dear heart, _vita mea_. Please… please do not—"

"You know I won't," I cut her off, not wanting to hear the end of that sentence. I'm holding her so tight that, if she weren't the Dragonborn, I swear it'd break her bones. I kiss her sweaty hair, my heart heavy. "I'm here. Still here. It was just a dream."

The sun is just beginning to rise.

"I know." Even though her voice is weak, she still sounds surprised. "Beautiful spirit… beautiful heart… big enough even to make space for one so undeserving as myself. I am yours. I love you. I am yours, yours always. I cannot lose you. I cannot—"

"Amara," I cut in again. "_Amara_…" I call her name gently, soothingly, and rub her back with an open palm. She shudders. "Hey."

When she doesn't respond, I nudge her head with my own.

"Hmm?"

"I'm here," I repeat because she needs to hear it. "I don't want to be anywhere else." I nudge her again so she'll pull back enough to let me press my face against hers. "No one makes me feel… _human_ like you do. You give me a sense of purpose, a reason to try and make peace with myself. You and our pretty little magic baby."

I pull back a little more to look into those striking, now-glossy, lovely blue eyes. Her hair is a mess and she's a little pale and she'd still have all my attention even if Dibella herself were to walk through my door.

I give her a gentle smile and say: "That's a fancy way of saying I love you too."

She doesn't say anything in return, she just kisses me hard and pulls me on top of her and buries her face against my neck. I cover her and let her feel most of my weight because that's what she needs: a warm shield, a reminder of our mutual and unspoken promise. We're stuck together, for better or for worse.

We stay like this for a little while, quiet and calm while the room grows brighter and brighter. Corinna will be getting up soon.

"Want me to go tell Leon you're feeling sick?" I offer after I feel her pulse ease up.

She sighs quietly. "I would never hear the end of it… and I doubt he would believe you."

"I doubt it too, but," I shrug, "I'll try if you need some quiet time. It's not the end of the world if you don't teach _today_."

"So say you now, but you do not know Leon as well as I do. I have a reason for refusing to make bets with him on most things. I was a fool for agreeing to one this time." I feel a soft kiss on my throat, and then another. "Believe you me, I would _never_ hear the end of it."

"I wasn't expecting him to win either, if it's any consolation." She's tracing a finger down my spine and I try not to shiver or react too much. She just wants to feel me and now isn't the time to make much more of it, not while she might still be upset.

"Not with _Faralda_, of all people!" She gripes, still sore about it, apparently. I'm just glad she's found something else to think about now. "How was _I_ to know that she fancied him already? I honestly thought she found him annoying and would quickly decline." She gives me one last kiss before pushing gently on my shoulders, indicating that she's ready to get up. I roll over to watch her get ready.

"It was a long shot. I've never spent much time around her, and the few times I have, I've never smelled desire or anything… though I wasn't paying much attention, either. He didn't ask to court her just to win your bet, did he? That's not exactly fair to her." My eyes follow the enticing sway of her stride as she moves to her wardrobe.

She shakes her head. "The bet is amusing to him, but he is not so heartless or shallow. No, the only woman to suffer shall be _me_. I knew better than to take his bait. Divines help me, but I knew."

I laugh. "Is it really so bad? All you have to do is teach a class. As far as losing bets goes, that's a pretty mild penalty."

"For most people, perhaps, but I do not have the patience for it. Worse still, I will be forced to endure his smug face the entire time." She turns to face me while she ties the sash of her robes. They're the sort worn by masters of Destruction magic, or so I'm told, and she doesn't wear them very often even though I secretly wish she would. They hug her hips in a way that makes my mouth water.

I don't do much to hide it, either, what with the obvious up-and-down look I give her. She catches it and raises an eyebrow, a classic expression of hers, and I'm glad to see how my appreciation seems to inflate her ego. She needs that right now.

I smirk. "Love, I don't think anyone in that audience is gonna be more smug than _me_."

She comes back to the bed to kiss me again. "Thank you," she whispers, smiling against my lips, and I'm sure she's saying a thousand other things with those two words. Then she pads over to her mirror and finally sees the glorious disaster that is her hair. "_Ecastor!_ Why did you not say anything?"

"Oh, you know that saying," I reply sweetly. "The one about love being blind, and all."

I narrowly miss the doll she tosses at my head, grinning. Corinna's little toys always seem to end up scattered all over our room. "How nice that I amuse you," she retorts. Then she studies her reflection for another few seconds before raising her hands and magicking her hair into order.

It's amazing what you can do with magic if you're creative, I've learned.

I hum an agreement and stretch. After a second or two I hear the kid and her dog stirring in the other room, so I get up and dress myself before she can burst in here and see more of me than she ought.

I'm fastening my belt just as I open the door for her, though it's Amara who snatches her up first. "_Mane bonum_, my darling frazzled little ragamuffin. Your hair looks nearly as fascinating as mine just was."

* * *

I'm not sure what's funnier in all this: the students' nervousness or Amara's frustration with them.

It's no secret that she's the Dragonborn and an Aestus and the Arch-Mage's sister. The whole audience is a silent cloud of nerves and it's impossible to tell if Amara's lesson is actually reaching them because they're all too afraid of her to make a sound.

"The crucial component of any automaton is its red gem, without which it could not move. Calcelmo of Markarth has hypothesized that these red gems are in fact soul gems that have been altered through yet-unknown processes, as is perhaps evidenced by the filled or half-filled soul gems found among the wreckage of many a fallen automaton. He makes a valid observation. However," she pauses to pull something from her weird magical satchel, "let us re-examine the centurion dynamo core."

She holds the thing up for everyone to see, obviously pleased with herself. For my part, I honestly have no idea how she can still find the Dwarves interesting after everything we went through in their ruins.

"This one comes from a long-silent workshop in the ancient city of Alftand, recovered and brought here by my own hands. Now, let us first consider the casing—"

I look down when Corinna tries, once again, to wriggle out of my grasp and run toward the front of the lecture hall and her other mother. She doesn't seem to understand that she's not allowed, or if she does, then she only seems to want to do it because it's forbidden. In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea to bring her in here at all… but I didn't know what else I could've done with her.

"_Corinna_," I scold as quietly as I can and pick her up. She fights me the whole time, growing upset.

Just as I'm motioning to Leon that I'll take her outside, she gives me her most spirited squirm yet and shouts "_Mama!_" as loudly as she can, all frustrated and teary-eyed.

Amara startles mid-sentence and nearly drops the dynamo core, catching it in the last second. I can see that her cheeks are a little red when she looks up again, not that it really matters: most of her audience is fixed on me and Corinna now, all while the kid keeps on with her shouting and I'm doing my best to inch my sorry way out the door. So much for enjoying the show.

"Mama! I want Mama!" I've got to give her some credit for all the effort she's putting in, though she's still going to be in a lot of trouble as soon as we're out of this room.

Amara sighs and puts the dynamo core on a nearby table. Then, to my surprise, she says: "Let her come, then, Lydia."

I'm confused, but I do as she asks and put Corinna back down. Just as soon as her feet are on the ground, she's sprinting as fast as her little legs will carry her and right into her other mother's waiting arms.

Amara stands back up and balances our kid on her hip, bouncing her a little, and the girl's face is pressed tight against her mother's shoulder. "My daughter, Corinna," she says to the class after a second. "Pardon her. As is obvious, she is very young yet."

I'm quick to notice that all the tension in the hall seems to have broken. I guess the sight of the mighty Dragonborn holding her crying three-year-old makes her look a lot more human and approachable.

And then, even _more_ surprisingly, a tentative hand comes up from the audience. "Is it true she was with you all through your quest against Alduin… uh… ma'am?"

I take stock: Amara looks lost, the student seems like she's about to faint, Corinna's still blubbering, the rest of the class is deathly silent, and Leon looks like he's about to die laughing. Beside us, Faralda and a few other higher-up wizards range from amusement to outright cringing.

Finally, a little haltingly, she says: "Well… through most of it… yes?"

Another nervous hand shoots up. "Could you tell us how you used the palace in Whiterun to… uh… capture a dragon?"

She looks all around the room. It's obvious that she's unsure if she wants to field these kinds of questions. But: "There is an ancient trap built into its Great Porch… Ah, built by Olaf One-Eye, I believe, for the dragon Numinex. There I called a challenge to a dragon named Odahviing, and lured him into it."

And another: "Is it true you went to Sovngarde?"

"Yes," she answers flatly. "And yes, it was in Sovngarde that I vanquished Alduin completely and forever by absorbing his soul. Now may I continue with my lecture, or am I to assume that it will fall on deaf ears?"

Tense silence again. Corinna, meanwhile, refuses to let Amara put her down. "No, Mama!"

So she gives in, shifts Corinna a bit higher up for comfort, huffs, and says: "Oh very well. You may ask your questions, so long as they be intelligent and worth answering."

Three hands. Amara nods to one of them. "Is the Thu'um a form of magic?"

She takes a second before answering. "I have pondered this myself. My core supply of magicka never seems to diminish when I use it, but this does not necessarily indicate that the Thu'um is non-magical. Its use requires a great deal more introspection than does magic, but the end results are, in a way, similar. In truth, I find it is more a matter of philosophy than raw power."

She nods to another hand. "What's it like to absorb a dragon's soul?"

"It is…" She tips her head up, just a bit, in thought. "It is… like falling through thin ice: so cold it feels hot, and you cannot breathe, and memories flow before you in a river… only in this case, they are not your own."

Another: "So has absorbing Alduin made you the new World-Eater?"

Something in her expression darkens, but I think it's too minute to be apparent to anyone who doesn't know her as well as me or Leon. "No," she says with a kind of finality, and then nods to another waiting hand.

She still won't tell me very much about her dreams.

Hand after hand pops up, question after question. Really it makes sense that they'd be interested: after all, it's not every day that the citizens of Skyrim have the opportunity to speak face-to-face with the legendary Dragonborn. Even among the general student body here, Amara's something of a rare sight. It's not that she's a recluse, not exactly, but she also doesn't take pains to socialize with the majority of the College.

One student leans toward another and whispers into his ear, but I still hear it: "Someone ought to ask her who the hell the father is."

The two snicker. I clench my teeth.

I'm just about to take a seat behind them and say something _really_ threatening when the main doors to the lecture hall suddenly burst open and a disheveled-looking wizard rushes into the room. "Aestus!"

And then I recognize him.

I move quickly, putting myself between Septimus Signus and my family, not letting him get any nearer to them. Leon moves to the man's back, ready to second me.

"Aestus, you deceiver! Thief! So long has poor Septimus awaited your return to his icy prison, yet you never came! Day after day with the infernal lockbox. Close and far to the god's heart! Return the lexicon to Septimus!"

"_Out_," I growl and grab the man by the scruff of his collar and start dragging him back out the doors. "_Out!_"

Leon motions to several of his wizards and one of them ties the madman's hands in magical binds while the rest form a formidable escort. They're probably going to lock him away somewhere until this mess is sorted out.

"Give Septimus his lexicon!" He keeps shouting as the wizards take him from me, allowing me to take my place at Amara's side. "In the box, the heart of a god! Give it to Septimus!"

She isn't saying anything. She's just staring him down steadily, her arms tight around our baby, protecting her.

A murmur flares up in the audience as the doors swing back shut. I catch snatches of similar conversations all around the hall:

"… wrote the _Ruminations_?"

"He's a madman…"

"Did he mean the ice fields…?"

"… heart of _what_ god…?"

"Has he found the Heart of Lorkhan…?"

Something, I don't know what, suddenly calls Amara to action. She holds Corinna tight against her breast and covers one of the girl's ears with a hand before she speaks. When she does, I can hear a _very _slight touch of the Thu'um in her voice: "_Quiet!_" Her command echoes off the high stone walls. Leon re-enters the room just then, and the two of them share a look. "That is all for today," she continues at a more normal volume, taking long strides toward the doors as she speaks. "Your normal sessions will resume on the morrow."

She doesn't even wait for her sentence to finish before walking out of the hall, Leon and myself close behind her. We follow her into the Arch-Mage's tower and then to Leon's office, where the two of them often share tea. She strides right in and takes her usual seat, never letting go of Corinna.

"Will you make black tea for us, please, Leon? And will you call someone to bring Duran here?" She doesn't look at him as she asks. Corinna's little face is between her palms. "Hush, _ocelle_. Hush." She kisses the girl's forehead, and then her cheek. "Lydia?"

I take the invitation to approach and rest a hand on Amara's shoulder. I'm not about to admit it to her, but privately I'm feeling just a bit helpless. It's not like the mad wizard's committed any specific crime, it's just that he's startled my daughter and dredged up memories of a time my woman and I would rather leave aside.

"Hey now." I ruffle my daughter's hair. "Come on, you're alright."

"Why was he yelling?" She's looking up at me with big glassy eyes. I swear this kid could shatter me to a million pieces if she tried hard enough.

"He was…" I shrug, trying to make the situation seem less serious than it is. "He was just… excited, I guess?" I hear Duran's clicking in the far hall. He'll be in here any second.

"He sounded mad." Corinna presses herself harder against Amara's breast.

A corner of Amara's mouth twitches at the word, but she doesn't say anything. She doesn't need to: the dog bursts through Leon's door just then and is quick to take up all of Corinna's attention. She wiggles out of her mother's lap to go play with him on the hearth rug while I take my usual seat and light my pipe.

Leon comes back with a steaming kettle, and brother and sister take a few seconds to serve themselves before settling in to talk.

"There are a few holding cells in the uppermost part of the Midden," Leon says in a low voice, glancing at Corinna for just a second. "I locked him there myself, but I cannot keep him there for long. I am… unsure of the legality of his arrest."

"You're the highest authority here. Holding him is legal if you say you have a good reason to do it," I offer. All those years in the Whiterun Guard didn't leave me ignorant, after all.

"But _do_ we have a good reason?" He asks us both, spreading his hands as he does. "Technically the… ah… lexicon does belong to him, and madman or no, he is still an official member of the College."

"He disturbed the peace," I deadpan, and look to Amara for input, but she's just watching Corinna. I reach a hand out. "Hey."

She breaks her stare and covers my hand with her own. "Free him, then," she says without much emotion.

Leon looks surprised and I probably do, too. "That's it?" I ask.

She shrugs. "He is indeed mad if he thinks I will give him the lexicon. I know not what that lockbox contains, but it shall not fall into his hands if I can help it. If he wants it, then he will have to duel me first. Winterhold law will not gainsay the _Dragonborn_."

"He claims it contains the Heart of Lorkhan," Leon muses over his cup. "I share in your hesitance, _Mara mea_, but I… am bothered by one thing. Well, many things really, but one is of more immediate importance: the scene he caused. Half the College was in that lecture hall, and all of them heard him."

I perk my head up toward the door. Someone is coming, someone tall, with quiet footsteps and long strides. I sniff the air: elf… High Elf, female, a touch of stress and a touch of excitement. _Faralda_.

She knocks twice before entering the office, and shuts the door behind her with a soft _click_. I inhale again: hesitation, new affection, a light arousal… probably tempered by the current situation. I pick up on all of this, regardless of whether or not I actually _want_ to pick up on it, because now it's just impossible to miss. Leon gets to his feet.

"Has something happened?" He asks her gently, switching from his native _Latine_ to the common language.

She looks composed enough, I guess, but I can detect the slight increase in stress. "Oh… not really, no. I just wanted to make sure you… Should I not have come?"

Leon, who had himself already been stressed, suddenly starts to really stink of it as he realizes the elf's motives for coming in here. I know there's a madman currently locked up in the Midden, but it's hard not to smirk and nudge Amara's boot with my own. Neither of us are gossips or busybodies, but we're both glad to see that Leon's managed to find a measure of peace for himself after everything he's been through.

"You are always welcome in here, of course." He pulls the table's only empty chair out for her and gestures for her to sit, then catches her up on our conversation as he pours her a cup of tea. "One thing bothers me still, no matter that Signus remains in his prison or is set free," he continues as he retakes his seat. His eyes dart all over the elf. I wonder if he knows he's doing it. "Many students will think now that the Heart of Lorkhan awaits discovery in the northern ice."

It's funny to hear him suddenly speak in the common language, since Faralda doesn't speak _Latine_. His accent is much thicker than Amara's is, and his manner of speaking is much more obviously foreign.

"What does it matter?" Amara quips as she begins slicing up an apple. "Even _I _cannot read the lexicon, and it is the supposed key. Even if a student were to find the lockbox, they have no chance of opening it. I say let them try."

"No, it is the journey that concerns me. What if some become lost or injured? They could die."

She waves a dismissive hand. "And still the lockbox will remain sealed, as it should."

"All heart as ever, Amara," Faralda says with obvious sarcasm, but without any real barbs. Amara doesn't seem to bristle at the comment. She once told me that she and Faralda know each other from their days in the Synod and tend to have that sort of banter between them.

"You tease, but my resolve has more heart behind it than you might think. Besides, we can do nothing to prevent a few students from being curious. They will go no matter _what _we say or do." She gets up, then, to bring a small plate of apple slices over to Corinna.

This conversation is already getting a little too circular for me. Idly, I glance down at the knife she used to cut the apple. It's a good piece of craftsmanship, a replica of Dwarven cutlery made from ancient scrap metal.

Amara and Leon are more than rich enough to be able to afford little oddities like these: since no modern smith's been able to reproduce Dwarven metal from scratch, newly-forged Dwarven armors and tools have to be made by melting down bits of metal salvaged from their ruins, which makes such products understandably expensive.

And then it hits me.

"They could still cut _through_ it," I blurt out over whatever Leon has begun saying. The three other adults in the room give me looks of confusion. _Mages. Goddamn mages._ _Never touched a forge in their whole lives_. I hold up Amara's little knife. "Look, like this thing. Lexicon or no, that lockbox isn't impervious."

Amara rises slowly. "Darling," she says like I'm a child or sick or something, "I doubt that even the most… ah… determined treasure hunter would try to slice his way through a wall of metal with a fruit knife. Or… any knife, really. Are you feeling quite well?"

"No, no, not the _knife_. Talos, I'm not that stupid—uh, I mean…" I trail off when I realize I just said the name of my illegal god in front of a damned High Elf. _Shit_.

Faralda catches on quickly and raises a placating hand. "As if I'd want to piss off the Chief of Hircine, the Dragonborn, and the Arch-Mage of Winterhold all in one fell swoop. And anyway, if I'd wanted to be up to my eyeballs in Altmer ideals, I'd have stayed in the Summerset Isles."

I furrow my brow, glad to hear her dismissal, but suddenly curious about one point: A lot of the mages here know I'm a werewolf, but… "How do you know I'm the Chief of Hircine?"

She points to my right hand, where I still wear Hircine's Ring on my finger, even after all these years. "The literature is sparse, but it does exist. Remind me to lend you a few of my books. I think you might like them."

"Uh… alright." I glance down at the fruit knife, trying to regain my earlier thought. "Anyway, no, I… I mean heat. Like this knife. They had to melt Dwarven metal to make it. I'm saying that Dwarven metal can be melted."

Amara crosses her arms, scowling a bit. "I had not thought of that."

"Nor I," Leon adds, staring into his cup.

"But how many of us can actually produce a magical fire that hot? We three and a few other senior scholars, maybe, but the younger students? They don't have the stamina." Faralda picks up another knife from the table and weighs it in her hands as she talks.

"No, but it _can_ be done," Leon says, and he and Amara share a look before he continues: "Word will spread beyond the College, and sooner or later, there will be a mage who will come to the same conclusion that Lydia just has. But when that will be… we cannot know."

Amara comes close to me. I let her take my pipe from my hand. She doesn't smoke much, and I don't mind sharing with her. "What is there to be done, then?"

"If Signus is right, if the box does hold the Heart of Lorkhan…" Leon drums his fingers on the table. "It cannot fall into the wrong hands, _Mara mea_."

"The lesser evil, then," she mumbles, more to herself than the rest of us. She exhales a small cloud of smoke, her eyes fixed on our daughter, small and oblivious and content as the kid is with her lunch of apple slices. Must be nice.

I rest a gentle, protective, possessive hand on the small of my woman's back. She leans a little into my touch. "Better us than someone else." Then I give Leon a pointed look. "Just… let's not see a repeat of that situation with the Eye of Magnus. Whatever's in that box, if it's dangerous, we should either move it somewhere safer or destroy it."

He hums an agreement. "We will do all we can. Mara?"

"_Ecastor_, I cannot believe I am about to say this." She takes another long pull on my pipe, exhaling another thick cloud. "I will give the man his damned lexicon, as I cannot read it myself. We will keep him in magical binds and accompany him personally. No madman will have the Heart of Lorkhan, not so long as I am breathing."

* * *

_9 Sun's Height, 4E206_

It feels good to wear heavy armor again, all things considered.

I don't wear it so much anymore because I don't want to seem forbidding to my daughter, but without her here, I'm free to let my armor feel like a familiar old friend.

Still, leaving her behind was more difficult that I would have thought. I've never done it before, not once. I've always been nearby, no more than a few walls away from her, and I've never trusted her to the care of anyone other than Amara or Leon. I know I should feel good about leaving her with Faralda. Leon trusts her. Amara… probably does. But still.

It was a fight not to give in to her tearful little face when she realized she couldn't follow Amara and me out the door.

Sitting next to me, huddled into her cloak and rocking with the boat, my woman just… _looks_ uncomfortable. If it's not because of Corinna, then it's probably because of the grumbling madman sitting tied up behind us.

At the very rear, Leon huffs with exertion, rowing the boat. A quiet Tolfdir sits at the front. Everyone is a little on edge: I can smell it as much as I can see it.

"Was I naive to hope that our adventures were long behind us?" She asks me softly.

I shake my head. "They still are. This is just some… uh… maintenance, I guess."

She doesn't say anything back, but she does lean against my shoulder just a bit more. I turn and growl a warning at Septimus Signus, whose rambling is doing nothing to ease Amara's mood. He glares at me, but finally shuts up.

We pass the rest of the time in silence and dock at the madman's icy outpost after a short while. Since I'm the one with the preternatural strength, I get the honor of dragging Signus along by his collar. I fight the temptation to just toss him down the man-sized hole in the ice, and instead grip him by his robes while I climb down.

We enter the main cavern and group around what is, I think, the main mechanism of the lockbox. Honestly, I'm pretty much clueless about this whole affair, though I have been making attempts to learn a bit more about the Dwarves just to make Amara happy. I love the way her face lights up when she talks about her work.

In any other situation, everything about that box would fascinate her, would make her happy. It's a shame to see the darkness in her expression just now.

She pulls the lexicon from her magical satchel and holds it up in plain view. Signus tries to lunge for it, but he can't escape my hold. Amara's tone of voice is just… well… _scary_: "Tell me how to read this."

"Impossible!" He shouts, fruitlessly reaching for his prize. "It is forbidden knowledge, impossible knowledge! It cannot be passed!"

"Try me."

Signus thrashes, but I'm too strong for him. "You don't understand! I cannot say with words what was not learned by words!"

Amara and Leon share a look. "How, then, did you come by this skill?"

"_Give Septimus the lexicon!_"

Amara doesn't acknowledge the outburst, but instead weighs the lexicon in her hands. When she speaks again, it's to Leon and Tolfdir: "If not by words, then by magicks. Some forgotten ritual, or perhaps through his work with the Elder Scrolls… Or…" she sighs, "with assistance from some higher power."

Tolfdir folds his arms. "I made those binds myself, Lady Amara. He can't attack us in any way. I'll stake my name on it."

Leon touches his sister's shoulder. "This is all the more reason to intervene, I think."

She releases a short, decisive breath through her nose. "I will give this to you," she says with unhidden threat. "If you move against us, my partner will rip your heart out. Do you understand?"

I lick my lips at the thought, only just a _little_ ashamed to admit that it pleases me.

"I can almost… _hear_ them." I keep a firm hold on the madman as he takes the lexicon and moves toward the locking mechanism. It's as if he's forgotten about all of us. "I can… feel their life energy."

By Talos, the sooner I can eat this man's heart, the better.

"Clever Dwemer… clever, clever Dwemer…" He does… _something_… I don't know what, but then suddenly leaps backward and collides with my breastplate as the concentric circles on the front of the box begin to rotate.

The circles spin in a way that makes me dizzy, though I'm careful not to let my stance falter. Then they all align and push inward, moving away from us and forming some weird kind of tunnel to the box's interior. Signus pulls on my grip like an untrained dog on a leash, raving.

I hold him out in front of me, an effective meat shield, and start moving. I won't leave Amara's side and I also won't leave Signus to his own devices, so if she goes into the box, so do I and my prisoner. If there's anything dangerous in there, I'll make damn sure that it's Signus who'll get fried first.

The tunnel is short, but the whole interior of the box is very dark, and I have to fight not to be reminded of Alftand. Amara, Leon, and Tolfdir all cast magical lights.

Except for a ratty old book sitting on a worn pedestal, the box is empty.

"What is this… it's… it's just a _book_! It's…" He stills. He isn't close enough to touch it, but something about it suddenly hypnotizes him. "It's marvelous…"

Then he starts levitating.

"Lydia, let go!" Amara's pushing me away from Signus just as he starts screaming and smelling of burning flesh. She puts herself between me and the book, and I watch as the madman disintegrates into a pile of dust. "Look away!" She orders us all: "Do not look at it!"

"The world beyond…" Tolfdir mumbles in a dreamy sort of voice. "I can see it…"

"_No_." Leon, his eyes fastened to the floor, grabs Tolfdir and slams him against the nearest wall, knocking the wind out of him. "_No_, my friend, remember yourself!" The sound of a loud slap echoes throughout the chamber, followed by a hiss of pain.

The room suddenly grows very, _very_ cold.

"_Ah… more seekers of knowledge…_" The voice grates my ears like fingernails to a writing slate. And the stench… the _stink_…

I clench my teeth and fight not to retch, all while trying to suppress the red fog that's begun creeping its way into the corners of my vision. The thing doesn't hide itself like Sanguine did back in Riften, it doesn't deny its existence. Its stink is like a fucking _challenge_.

It's a foul mass of tentacles, and it's blocking our only exit. "_Come closer… Bask in my presence._"

I pull Amara tight against me. Her scent and physical nearness are the only things that will keep me grounded. "_Daedra_," I growl. I don't know exactly _how_ I know that. I just do.

"Hermaeus Mora," she affirms coldly, though I'm pretty sure she's talking to _it_ and not me. "You could be no other. Begone. We have no business with you."

Its responding laugh just _sounds_ slimy. "_Who do you think brought Septimus here? Who do you think taught him to divine the ancient secrets of the Dwemer? Who do you think… protected you… on your journey to loose my knowledge upon this world?_"

"_Protected!_" She shouts in furious rebuttal. Magic crackles down her arms, making the hair on my neck stand up. "You… You _dare_! Begone, demon! I am _not_ your puppet and I will _not _tolerate your nerve! Away!"

She breaks away from me. The red grows darker, more opaque, her anger feeding mine. I want to remind her that we're in a cage and she's slinging insults at the god blocking our only way out, but I can't unclench my teeth. I can't stop growling._ Just keep your head. You're better than this._

One of its tentacles brushes the air just in front her nose. A dare. A challenge. "_Your free will is an illusion. Whether you acknowledge me or not is your own business, but I will be in your mind_—"

"_Enough!_" It's the Thu'um and something else, something ominous and dark, something I've never heard her produce before. What she says next, I don't understand. I recognize the Dragon language, and that's it. Her voice is low and roiling and sounds like it's coming from a body much bigger than hers…

I want to attack her.

The shock is like a stab to the guts. _Why_. My Amara, my partner, who wears my scent and my mark with secret pride… after the high price we've paid for what we have… _Why_. I shake, sweat, twitch. _Why_. Her heart is mine already. I taste it in every kiss.

I slowly realize that I've been restrained. _Tolfdir_. Amara once told me that Alteration magic can cause paralysis. I can't move my legs. _It's right. It's good_.

I want to kill them.

And whatever threats Amara's probably made, the Daedra seems to have brushed them off: "_… For hundreds of years it's been locked away from the world. Septimus was a useful tool for unleashing it. I'm delighted to put it in your uniquely dangerous little hands, Dragonborn. Let us work wonders together…_" It disappears.

Like me, Amara trembles with rage. I can smell Tolfdir's sweat: holding me still is really taking its toll.

"_Mara mea_…" Leon calls to his sister with caution. "Amara…" He's at my side, ready to turn me to dust if I make a wrong move. _It's good_.

Something changes when she turns and meets eyes with me. What was once a weird flash is now an unnatural and unnerving yellow glow, but it's fading fast, back to beautiful blue again.

And she looks very, _very_ afraid.

"Are you… yourself, _Mara mea_?"

"Yes," she says, never taking her eyes off me.

No… No, I don't want to attack her. The urge dies like the snuffed flame of a candle. I would never hurt her, now not, not after everything.

"Do you feel faint?"

"No." She takes a cautious step toward me, and then another. She's staring at me like she can read what's underneath my skin. "Release her, Tolfdir. She will not attack." The old wizard lets me go with a relieved sigh, and Amara catches me when I stumble forward.

Her scent… nothing's wrong. Nothing's off. "I… I don't—"

"Shh," she soothes, though her voice trembles along with the rest of her. "It is done. It is…" A hard breath. Stress. Fear. Her heart's beating so _fast_.

"We're okay," I whisper, too quiet for anyone but Amara to hear.

"We are."

When I look up, I see Tolfdir and Leon wrapping the strange book in a spare cloak, their eyes carefully averted away from it.

* * *

Corinna is fast asleep in my arms. I should have put her to bed some time ago, but I can't bring myself to let go of her. She was just so _happy_ to see us, completely ignorant of where we've been and what we've just been through… or what's now locked up in the Arch-Mage's secret vault deep underneath the College.

Amara is pressed close to me, sitting with her legs tucked to one side. Leon pokes the fire with a long rod of Dwarven metal. We're gathered on the hearth rug like children, but no one seems to object to it.

"Are you ready to tell us?" He asks her softly.

"I… do not know what to say." She pauses to arrange her thoughts. "What happened today was… I was _angry_. I was consumed by a desire to destroy. I felt hatred… indignance… I dared Hermaeus Mora to try to use me as if I were any other mortal."

"Something changed in you… something _big_," I say, not knowing how else to put it. I'll feel guilty about this day for the rest of my life, but still, my senses _never_ lie to me.

"I know. I was… aware of it, on some level." She leans closer and reaches out to stroke Corinna's hair. "I often dream of destruction, of obliterating all I have fought to preserve. With it comes a twisted sort of pleasure… until I awaken. Then there is only deep sorrow."

I touch her hand where it's stilled over Corinna's head. I'm beginning to think I know what it was… or rather, _who_ it was… that I felt in her. "If you ever give in to that anger…"

"_No_," she replies quietly, but with steel. "My pride will not allow it, nor will my heart." She rotates her palm and laces her fingers between mine. "This world is here to stay. Our family is here to stay… And someday, when I die, so too will the power of the World-Eater."

It's almost morbidly funny: I know all too well what it's like to struggle with bouts of unnatural destructive rage. I nod once and squeeze her hand. It fits in mine like a key to a lock… or like a reflection in the mirror.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_In the first chapter of this work, I said that it's going to be mostly-not-Dragonborn-related and very fluffy..._

_Okay so maybe I lied._

_Also, I know I skipped a lot of stuff in the 'Discerning the Transmundane' quest. This is just how I wanted to write it. The elf-blood-thing seemed especially superfluous, and I had bigger fish to fry anyway._

_Cheers,_

_AE_


	5. Part Five

**Interlude: Hearthfire (5)**

_4 Sun's Dusk, 4E207_

There's a mystery that's baffled Amara and Leon for years now; two mysteries, actually, though the second one is a more recent development.

"Still Corinna produces no magic," Amara mutters, a hand on her chin as she watches our daughter play in the snow with a few other children and her dog. My partner looks as lovely as ever by the light of the setting sun. "All Aestus children are able to produce magic by the age of four at the latest. She turned five yesterday, yet I have never seen even the slightest spark."

"_All_ of them?" I ask with an obvious tone of doubt. Honestly I'm getting a little tired of this conversation. "Your House _never_ produces a non-mage?"

"Non-mages are distinguished by their coloring and tend to appear outside of the head family. As I have said before, our magicks affect our appearance. If she were a non-mage, she would not look as I do… but she does. And besides this, she _has_ magic. I can feel it! Can you not?" She says all this with a perplexed scowl.

I shrug. "Vaguely, yeah, but there's not much for me to say about it. And I've still never seen this _brightness_ you claim is there, even with your fancy perception spell."

"I swear to you, it is there. One sees it just in the corner of the eye, like a faint aura. Look at it directly, and it disappears." She leans against my torso when I put an arm around her shoulders. I'm hoping the half-hug will distract her and shut her up… but it doesn't, of course. "Time and again I have tried to determine its nature, but it is impossible without any sort of magic to siphon from her. She produces none, and I can take none." She pauses a minute. "It is… troubling."

"I'm sorry, I really don't, uh…" I run a hand through my hair, needing to fidget while I search for a useful response. I honestly don't see why this is such a big deal, or why she feels the need to keep bringing it up. Maybe Corinna's just a late bloomer?

"She was not born under the Atronach…" Now she's talking more to herself than to me. "Even if she were, the handicap is treatable and has nothing to do with casting… No other magical disabilities seem to match hers…"

"Disability?" I repeat, maybe a little more harshly than is needed. "Amara, it sounds like you're about to call her a cripple. Or a disappointment or… something."

I feel her whole body go stiff as she realizes how her words might have sounded. "Oh." She blushes. "No, I… No, it is only peculiar. I would not be so cruel as to…" She sighs, and the hand that was on her chin now moves to pinch the bridge of her nose. "That did sound awful. Forgive me."

"I think you should let it go for now. If she gets it in her head that you're disappointed in her, it'll break her heart." The scene of innocent play just in front of us morphs into an all-out snowball fight. I cock my head as I watch: Corinna's got quite the throwing arm for a kid her size, and I can't quite tell if Duran is shielding her or if she is shielding Duran. "Let me teach her the sword," I say after a minute.

She would have started learning the basics of magic a year ago, but again and again it's proven to be a pointless exercise.

"… Alright." One of her arms snakes around my waist and we stand that way for a bit, trying to exchange comfort. It's obvious that she feels bad.

Then the wind blows up from the bridge and Winterhold proper, and I smell it.

_The vampire_.

I jerk out of Amara's embrace and spin on my heel to face the College gates, unable to suppress the rumbling in my chest. The mages here all know about me and they don't talk if they know what's good for them. It's an unspoken agreement. A bit of growling from me won't start a riot, especially not with Leon as Arch-Mage.

"What is it?" Amara asks from behind my back.

I sniff the air again. I detect Leon, too, but he's separate from the unmistakable smell of a goddamn vampire. But they're close. They're near, coming up the bridge. He told me to expect one this week, they both did. But still. _Still_ it's hard to control my reaction.

"Lydia!" She calls sharply, probably thinking me unnecessarily paranoid.

"_Vampire_," I grind out, never taking my eyes off the gate. "With Leon. Coming up the bridge."

She sighs. "It is Sybille Stentor, darling. You knew she would be coming. Why in the world are you so tense?"

I clench my teeth, a little raw from her dismissive tone. "I told you they tend to attack me when they smell me."

"Lydia." Her hand is gentle, but firm, on my shoulder. "She is very old and very well-integrated. She will attack no one here, and even if she were to, Leon would overwhelm her. _Lydia_." She turns me back around and makes me look at her when I don't do it myself. "For me, please, rein in your temper. Take Corinna and help her wash up and dress, then take a few moments to breathe. Meet us in Leon's office when you have finished."

She's smaller than me: shorter, thinner muscle, thinner bones. If we were a wolf pack, _I'd_ be the one making orders.

I growl and sigh all at once and it comes out like an embarrassing whine. I can already feel my ears turning red. "Fine…" I take a step toward Corinna and her little friends, but it's a struggle. "You're sure she won't… ?"

"_Yes_, I am more than sure." She shoos me with a hand. "Now go on."

Still kind of embarrassed, I shuffle off, take Corinna by the hand, and lead her into the Arch-Mage's tower. She's brushing half-melted snow from her disheveled mess of hair with her free hand, Duran following close at her heels. He follows her everywhere. "I didn't wanna be done," she grumbles. "Runa got me in the eye."

"Sorry, order's from up top. Does it hurt at all?" I look her over. I'm surprised she isn't crying about it.

She rubs at it. "A little bit."

I push my door open and hold it for her. "Well a hot bath'll fix it. Hang up your stuff."

She does this very neatly for someone her age. Amara, we've both learned, doesn't tolerate untidiness so well when she's given the time and peace of mind to fret over it. "Who's here?"

"A _vam_—" I bite the word back as quickly as I start saying it. Am I supposed to tell her? I mean, Corinna already knows what _I_ am—it's not exactly easy to hide, after all, though she hasn't seen me in Beast form yet—but she's never been around a vampire before and I don't want to create a problem where there might not actually be one. I scowl as I place a large kettle of water over the fire. "A friend of Leon's or something."

"Oh. So do I have to wait to eat? I'm hungry." She sits down on the rug beside the hearth, and almost immediately, the dog curls around her. He and I have developed an… understanding, I guess.

But I laugh quietly, more to myself than to her. Here I am, fretting over a vampire, when all she cares about is her next meal. "I wish I had priorities like yours." I ruffle her hair.

The kettle is enchanted, so the water heats up pretty quickly. I wash and dress her as efficiently as I can, though I'm a little slower than usual since I'm still not happy about having a vampire here, and I take a few minutes to pull myself together before we head back out the door. Amara said this vampire's unlike the wild sort, that it's civilized. You'd figure that I, of all people, would be more than willing to give other werewolves and the nightwalkers their due chance at courtesy, but I never said I'm perfect.

My own struggle is tough enough, and I'm supposed to be Hircine's best breed. I still feel the call to take to four paws and hunt. I feel it every day. I resist giving into it permanently because I have Amara and Corinna to call me back. I can't say the same for the other supernatural types I encounter here and there, though. They can't all have the same motives that I do.

I resist the urge to glower. Damn Imperials and their damn etiquette. Why is it so necessary to introduce a five-year-old girl to a potentially-dangerous stranger? _Why_ is that considered the polite thing to do?

I stew in my sour mood while Corinna urges me toward Leon's apartments, hungry and unwilling to tolerate my slow pace. The smell of _vampire_ is everywhere, and I've no doubt that it can smell me too. It'll get all hostile as soon as I open the door, I just know it.

I enter first, blocking the door for Corinna, who's not-so-subtly pushing against my leg. A pair of glowing red eyes fix on me immediately, but neither of us makes a move. I start counting the seconds. If she doesn't do anything within seven, then I'll move.

"_Lydia_," Amara says over the rim of her cup, "this is Sybille Stentor. She has been gracious enough to lend us her expertise for a certain College-wide research project. Madame Stentor, this is Lydia, my partner. Corinna, our daughter, is currently struggling to move past the doorway… _darling_."

Seven seconds. No movement. Nothing. The vampire's still staring at me, but that's to be expected.

"A pleasure, I'm sure," it says guardedly. I guess I can't blame it.

"Ma, come on!" Corinna finally whines. "Ma!" The vampire's eyes flicker downward just as I move enough to let my daughter push past, though I keep a hand on her shoulder.

And then the strangest thing happens.

"By the divines!" The vampire looks away from Corinna and shields and rubs its eyes as if it were in pain. "What… What is this, Leon! Is this some elaborate trap?" It tries to look at Corinna again and turns away immediately, hissing.

"Pardon? I do not…" He stands up, at a loss for words and genuinely confused, looking constantly between his niece and his guest. "What is wrong?"

"What is _wrong_?" It repeats, its voice raised but not screeching. "Are you blind? She's bright as the sun!"

Frightened, Corinna turns and presses against me. I keep both hands on her shoulders, ready for anything. "_Ma_…" she calls me, growing increasingly upset.

"Bright as the…" Leon's eyes widen, suddenly, just as Amara's do. They share an urgent look. "Sybille. Madame Stentor—"

"Here, _ocelle_, I have you," Amara says gently as she moves to take our daughter into her arms. She gives me a look: _Be patient_. "No, no, my love, you have done nothing wrong," she whispers in response to the whimpering girl against her shoulder. She pauses to listen. "No, my dear, there is but a mystery to solve now. No, you are not in trouble."

"Madame Stentor, I assure you this is not a ruse. We are just as surprised as you."

"I'm too old to believe paltry words, boy! The only surprise right now is that you haven't done away with me already. The divines only know what you're waiting for."

"Then let that be the proof of my good intentions! My family and I meant you no harm, I swear it on my life."

"Then what is _that_—" Another hiss. "It's the most potent Turn Undead spell I've ever felt! I can't even look at her. If she comes any closer I swear I'll burst into flames."

"A _Turn Undead_ spell… ?" Amara mutters to herself, rocking Corinna very slightly. "A Turn Undead spell…" She's already far away, lost to thought.

"That is the brightness you see?" Leon sounds astonished and fascinated all at once.

"Yes, damn it! Are you going to kill me or not? I can't bear this proximity any longer." The vampire's backing up against the wall, weak and furious.

"No, Madame. No, I swear it." While he makes his promises, Leon scrambles over to his desk and opens one of its drawers. "I have an idea," he says as he pulls out a metal box and opens it. "_Mara mea_, let me put Corinna in magical binds. Let me see what happens."

This pulls Amara from… wherever she was. "I cannot…" She looks down at our whimpering daughter, and then over her shoulder at the vampire. It's a battle between parenting instincts and sheer academic curiosity. She hugs Corinna tighter. "Only if she gives consent."

"Won't it _hurt_ her?" I cut in, a little upset that Amara would try to take away Corinna's only defense against the vampire. And besides, they have _no idea_ what the binds would do to her. What if they cause permanent damage?

"They halt the outward casting of magic, this is all. Magical binds do not disrupt the internal workings of the body. That is impossible. I cannot fathom that she would be harmed." Leon gives me a reassuring nod and then crouches next to Corinna. "_Ocelle_, will you help me with something? May I put these on your wrists?" He holds them up for her to see: two strips of white cloth inscribed with tiny runes.

The kid's unresponsive, of course. Anyone could have expected that. "Come now, my love." Amara pulls away enough to take the girl's face into her hands and dry her tears with her thumbs.

Current disaster aside, it's really nice to see. It's been something of a bumpy road, but Amara's gone a long way in learning how to interact with our daughter. She has her own way of doing things, sure, but her affection is genuine and she's done a nice job of learning how to show it.

"Hush, dry your tears. Shh, now." She kisses the girl's brow. "You are not in trouble and no one here will hurt you, I promise. _Corinna mea_," she coos, "your magic has merely startled Madame Stentor. It is not your fault. Will you let Uncle try to fix it?"

She doesn't say anything in return. She just hiccups and whimpers and nods in the affirmative, and Amara takes her back into an embrace. She's facing outward this time, her back to Amara's front, with Leon crouched and smiling gently just in front of her. "You are very brave, _ocelle_. If you will be patient with me now, I may just have a honey treat on the table for you. Will that do? May I see your hands?"

I bite back a protest when Corinna complies, still sniffing. Okay, yes, Amara and Leon know more about magic than I could ever hope to, but that doesn't make me any less paranoid. Amara's looking up at me again, though: _Be patient_.

Gently, he wraps the binds around her wrists. Nothing happens, at least not that I can see.

The vampire sighs. "It's like being tossed into cool water."

"How do you feel?" He asks his niece.

"Fine," she mumbles, not meeting his eyes.

Leon stands and Amara follows, Corinna still clutching her hand. I feel her other hand slip into mine after a second or two. I study her. She doesn't _look_ any different, not that I could tell before anyway.

"Madame Stentor?" Leon then prompts.

The vampire rubs at its eyes again. "She's…" It blinks. "She's faintly bright. It doesn't hurt to look at her, but you couldn't pay me enough to try and touch her."

"Well, that answers one question," he says, a hand on his bearded chin. "And… creates several others."

We all do the best we can to get seated and settled again, but everyone's well aware that the polite mood of earlier is pretty much gone. Leon and Amara are watching Corinna with unmasked bewilderment while the vampire's doing its best to keep at a distance. Conversation is spotty.

As for me… well… My kid is a walking repellant for vampires and the undead, apparently.

I fight not to show my wolfish grin, but really, I don't think I've ever been prouder.

* * *

_5 Sun's Dusk, 4E207_

She's up pacing and brooding till well past midnight, just as I figured she would be.

"A Turn Undead spell…" she mumbles, twirling a bit of magic around her finger in thought. "A Turn Undead spell of constant effect, incredible potency, and outward casting. Magical binds do not disrupt the casting, they…" she sighs, "mask it? Reduce it? Muffle it?"

I don't say anything, content to let her speculate until she wears herself out or starts talking to me first.

She bounces the magic in her palm. "A spell she cannot control or deactivate consciously. One she casts every moment of every day, completely unable to disrupt it. One that neither Leon nor I can disrupt, binds or no binds."

I wait.

Eventually she turns to me, where I'm leaning against a desk nearer the wall. "Is _that_ what binds all her magic? An endless spell that has… _monopolized _all her potential?"

I shrug. "I hope you're not asking me. I can try and make up an answer, but it'll probably disappoint you."

"No, I just…" Another twirl of idle magic. "I am thinking aloud."

"Seems to be a new habit of yours, that," I comment as I lean forward a bit and make a gentle tug on her sleeve. She lets me pull her close. "Letting me hear what you're thinking. I like it."

She kisses my jaw, though still kind of lost in thought. "I never thought I would find it so comforting."

Her collar is loose. She leans against me as I tug it to the side, just enough to see my mark. I kiss it and she shivers. She's never said anything negative about it, not once, and I love her all the more for that. "Can I share a bit of what I'm thinking?"

We embrace fully. "Of course."

I nuzzle against her neck. "Alright, I love you, but you shouldn't exhaust yourself with all this brooding. Knowing what it is doesn't change anything, not in the big picture. Let me teach her my brutish Nord ways and let's just be happy that no vampire or draugr or whatever will ever get the upper hand on her." I smile against Amara's ear at the thought. "Watch, she'll be a vampire hunter someday. She will kick so much _ass_."

She groans. "Must you make light of it like that?"

"I've come to think it's what I'm here for." My fingers trace the enticing swell of her hips. "You're the smart over-analytical one, and I'm the practical anchor that keeps you from drifting too far off."

She laughs softly, breathily. She traces over my neck and shoulders with a light touch. "How poetic. And yet you laud _me _as the wordsmith between us."

"I have my moments." Her body is growing warmer the more I touch her, very steadily, very gradually. It's faint, but it's becoming easier and easier for me to read her like that, as if I'm becoming more finely attuned to her the longer we're together. Sometimes I wonder if it's like that for every werewolf.

Normal people wouldn't notice it, but I notice everything when it comes to Amara. She sighs with pleasure when I nip lightly on her ear. "Are you trying to… seduce me away from my ponderings, darling?" Sure she's teasing me, but her fingers are already slowly undoing the ties of my shirt. She's in no hurry.

"I dunno. Is it working?" I press my nose to the soft skin of her neck and inhale deeply. Gods, there's no one else like her.

"Perhaps," she says all low and smooth. She pulls my shirt open and traces a light line downward with one finger. "But only if you do… _exactly_ as I tell you."

And all of a sudden I'm given to wonder who's seducing whom, exactly.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_Hi everyone. Sorry about the hiatus… I moved to a new city, got a new job, got a new busy-life-schedule… all that fun stuff. It was nice to finally have a few moments to concentrate on writing, I must say._

_So now we know what's up with Corinna. Yes, this development will be relevant in upcoming plots. _

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Don't forget to leave me a few words if you did. :)_

_Until next time,_

_AE_


	6. Part Six

**Interlude: Hearthfire (6)**

_23 First Seed, 4E208_

Trust is a strange thing. It sneaks up on you and fills you up and changes you in a lot of little ways, usually before you even realize what's happening.

It's the little things that stagger me the most. Before Amara, I wasn't a very flexible bedpartner. I got uncomfortable pretty easily and had a lot of trouble with the idea of leaving myself exposed, even in a situation like that. If I felt too exposed, it was next to impossible for me to feel good. It was a trust issue, I guess. Maybe it was an insecurity thing. The gods only know.

I'm too proud to admit to it, that old anxiety, and Amara's always been intuitive enough to know about it without asking. So… I don't know exactly when she first made me want to be in a position like this. It's just one of those little things that comes with time and familiarity.

This feeling is so much bigger than my own body. It's overwhelming. She's trailing kisses down my stomach and my fingers are tangled in her hair and I whisper "I love you," like I'll never have another chance to say it again, but it's still not big enough.

It's one thing to get naked in front of someone, but it's another to _feel_ naked. I'm bare and vulnerable and so is she, and it feels good because I've become so fixated on telling her about this big, painful, beautiful feeling however I can. I put all this in her hands and tell her I love her because I mean it and it couldn't be any other way, despite everything, and also because of it.

"And I, you," she breathes. She's pressing kisses between my legs and watching me, watching how I react.

I give this to her. I let go of everything except for what she's doing to me, and I really let her see and hear it in ways I'd never show to anyone else. Her fingers caress my hips, my stomach, my breasts. I let her look and feel.

Her pace builds and I feel her push inside and stroke me, deep, firm, relentless. My hips rock harder and harder with each thrust and she moves with me, her lips closed over me and sucking. It builds, quick and intense, hot, wet and tight. I move with it. She makes me shake and moan and throw my head back, no hang-ups or doubts. It's just good, so good, and I love the way she smiles against me when I tense and release all around her.

"Beautiful." I can hear the smile in her voice. She places light kisses on the insides of my thighs and whispers to me while I catch my breath. "I know the word _beautiful_ sometimes feels strange to you, but really, it fits you so well."

"It's been rare that I… uh…" I take another few steadying breaths. She's worn me out more than I'd thought. "No one's often made me feel that way, except you. I've told you."

She kisses my wrist while I stroke her hair. "I know. I just like to hear it now and again."

I give her a gentle tug, and she moves up my body, coming to rest her full weight on me with her head resting on my neck and shoulder. "It's still a little weird for me sometimes, but not in a bad way. I've never felt as comfortable with the shape of my body as I do nowadays, but still…"

"Still, old habits will die hard."

I hum in agreement and twirl a lock of her hair around my finger. "Stubborn, but not invincible. I never thought I'd be able to become part of a family, either, and look how wrong I was."

"And you are under the protection of my House for life, now. I have made sure of that." She leans up a bit to look at me. "I received confirmation from Solitude earlier today. You are now my official heir."

No wonder she'd been so forward tonight. I sigh quietly. "I know we've agreed on this but… I still wish you'd have just named Corinna instead. I don't need an inheritance, especially not from you. Not to sound grim, but—"

"Yes, I know, if I die, it will only be because you have already died defending me." She shakes her head a little. "And, as I have said, this makes you one of us without forcing you to marry. In the plainest terms, this is a selfish indulgence for me. I never could have done such a thing in the Imperial City, but here, Leon and I are free to rebuild our House as we see fit."

"Including a full takeover of Skyrim's East Empire Company," I tease, getting a little sleepy.

She has a satisfied sort of look on her face. "We took what belonged to us already, darling. And it is more Leon's project than mine."

I yawn and pull her close again. "Speaking of him… we should probably try to sleep."

"Mm, yes." She laughs softly against my breast. "For tomorrow he will defy the old taboo against bringing elven blood into our hallowed human fold. My ancestors must be quaking in their aetherial boots."

I smirk. "No worse than making an heir of your werewolf lover."

She laughs again.


	7. Part Seven

**Interlude: Hearthfire (7)**

_10 Last Seed, 4E208_

I wipe my brow with the back of my sleeve, half-listening to the sound of retreating footsteps. The wind is gentle today, but it smells like deepening cold and shorter days, and I've a mind to sit and let it cool me down while I think things through.

Corinna's starting to realize that she's different from the other children here: while they are pulled away to learn about the basics of magic, she and I take up wooden swords on the Arch-Mage's spacious stone balcony. Today she asked me why.

I didn't lie. I told her that it was because she can't seem to cast magic… but I did try to put it lightly. She's just too young to start blaming herself for something she can't control. It was best to just tell her what she needs to know and then remind her to keep practicing her forms, which she did, until Amara called her for an afternoon meal.

I don't want to go inside yet, though, so I pull up an old wooden chair, take a seat, and go about packing my pipe.

The situation with Corinna's magic bothers Amara a lot more than it does me. Maybe it's because I'm not a mage myself, or maybe it's a family heritage issue I can't possibly understand, but I really do think this Turn Undead effect she has… if that really is what it is… is actually a blessing in disguise. It means that she'll be able to protect herself.

It's as good a magical birthright as any, in my opinion. House Aestus has been known to produce stranger types, after all, the legendary Dragonborn among them.

A burst of wind buffets my ears and nearly drowns out the sound of a new body approaching the balcony door, but the stride is so unique that I already know who it is before she makes an appearance. I glance at Faralda from over my shoulder: she's nearly four months in and just beginning to show, and I'm honestly surprised that Leon isn't with her. He's stuck to her like a second shadow ever since she broke the news.

In any case, she looks relieved to see it's just me out here. She shuts the door behind her and pulls up a chair beside mine. "Do me a favor and tell me if you sense him coming."

I shrug, smirking. "Not sure how much good it'll do you, seeing as that door's your only exit."

"Doesn't mean I can't turn myself invisible, even if it'll only buy me a few minutes." She stretches and tilts her head up to the sky. "I like being cared for, but this is getting a little ridiculous, even for him."

"Makes me a bit thoughtful, truth be told." I pull on my pipe. "We were both like that with Amara, too. I know that back then we were in some kind of danger more often than we weren't, but I think that feeling can stay with you for a long time afterward."

"He's been through a lot. I know. He's told me most of it: about his first wife and the rest of Amara's journey and all that." She goes quiet for a few seconds. "Their whole line's seen horrors I don't even want to imagine. I try to remind myself of that whenever his fawning starts to get on my nerves. He's overcompensating, but I know his heart's in the right place."

I give her a sly glance. "Hasn't stopped your little game of hide-and-seek."

"I never said I'm perfect," she retorts, but not in a mean way.

I make a low sound as a way of saying I've heard her, but I can't think of a way to keep the conversation flowing. I've never been the best at social situations, and I've got other things on my mind anyway. I start drumming my fingers on the armrest, a little awkward and restless.

Faralda notices. "You don't have to stay out here if you don't want to."

I pull on my pipe again and try to stop my fidgeting. "It's not that…"

Should I try talking to her about it? Am I allowed?

I look over at her when I feel her pat my arm. "Has anyone ever told you that you're easy to read?"

I laugh a little at that. "Just about everybody."

She leans back again. "I passed Amara and Corinna on my way out here. While she has Amara's looks, it's obvious that she's inherited _your _expressions. I take it her training didn't go too well today."

I sigh quietly. Guess it couldn't hurt. "She knows she's different from everyone else here."

"Oh…" A pause. "Well… it had to happen eventually."

"I guess, but… I just wish I could explain it to her like it's not a bad thing. _I_ definitely don't think it is." I rub at my eyes with my free hand. "But my way of putting it doesn't seem to stack up against a whole College of mages, and especially not against her own mother and uncle. She knows that Amara and Leon can do things that she can't, and what's worse, she's gotten it into her head that she ought to be able to."

"I hope Amara hasn't had a hand in that…" She sounds a bit ominous.

I shake my head. "No, not like that. Magic is just a part of their line, I guess. Comes as natural as breathing."

"The fabled Aestus magical inheritance," she says with a bit of a hum. "It's gained its own sort of infamy over the centuries, you know, and I don't just mean the family curse, though that was definitely a part of it. So many people were convinced that House Aestus got all its wealth and power by serving the daedra…" She trails off for a second, a finger on her chin in thought. Then she laughs. "In hindsight, the rumors were just a little bit true."

I grimace. "It's not really just from the daedra, is it?"

She shrugs. "The gods only know. Their House is old and steeped in equal amounts of rumor and tradition. Amara and Leon have done a lot to set themselves apart from their parents, but I don't think they can help what they are."

"She's told me before that it's like Corinna's birthright has been stolen from her," I say after a puff of smoke. "Maybe it's just because I'm not a mage myself, but I honestly don't see her condition as a bad thing. The undead will never touch her. Knowing it just makes me happy."

"No… I don't think it's that." She pauses to shift in her seat, grumbling about the added weight of her pregnancy. "Colette told me I'm carrying twins this morning. Can you believe that? Twins. No wonder I'm always exhausted."

I give her a small smile. "Congratulations."

She finally finds a more comfortable position before waving my response away. "That's one way of putting it. But ah… I don't think the Turn Undead spell is the problem here. I'll put it to you this way: imagine you're starving. Now imagine a delicious hunk of herb-roasted meat's dangling just in front of you, right out of your reach, and you get to stare at it and smell it while you starve to death. Does that make sense?"

"It does, but…" I scowl. "Corinna isn't starving."

"Lydia." Her hand brushes my arm again. "I've had dealings with House Aestus for a long time. Leon and I trained under the same master, and I often worked with Amara when we were in the Synod. I've met their parents several times, and I've seen what that curse did to the family as a whole. For the longest time, their magic was their one real source of pride. It was the only tangible bright spot. The curse might be gone, but like you said, certain feelings can stay with you afterward."

"That is… a very good way of saying it."

I startle and turn in the direction of the new voice. It's Leon, standing in the doorway with a small smile on his face.

_He snuck up on me._ I slow my breathing, try to swallow my surprise and budding disappointment. _No one_ sneaks up on me anymore. I can't remember the last time I'd been so distracted by my thoughts to let that happen.

I think he knows this, too, but he's nice enough not to mention it.

Faralda gives a quiet, and slightly dramatic, sigh. "I was wondering when you'd find me. We're discussing Corinna, just in case you need context."

He approaches us and leans down to kiss his wife. "My sister was kind enough to guide my search. She also asks that you come inside for supper, as your tardiness is…" he clears his throat and mimics the higher tone of her voice: "_setting a poor example for your impressionable child_."

I chuckle as I stand up to leave. "That was actually pretty good."

"But ah… if I may have just one more moment?" He makes a gesture with his hand that asks me to stay.

I nod.

"I know we are an eccentric House, a strange one, but what I heard of your conversation was especially… eh…" he searches for the right word, "_poignant_ to me. Meaningful. While the curse made so much chaos in our lives, our study of magic was often our only source of reprieve. It was the identity we clung to." He takes a deep breath through his nose and his eyes fall to his wife's growing belly. "But…"

I finish the thought for him: "But the curse is gone now, and Corinna and your children will never feel that kind of pressure."

He smiles again. "Yes, and… if Amara and I truly do want to build a new House, then I think we must learn to see that the Aestus birthright may take many new forms. She and I are like… stunted trees, able to grow strongly in only one direction. Our children will be free to take the shapes we never could."

… I wonder if that birthright also includes a knack for flowery language. I make to leave. "Thanks. Now I think I know what I'll say to her later." I wave as I walk away. "'Till next."

"Glad to help, and good luck," Faralda says after me.

I stroll back inside and toward where I know my little family is still waiting for me.

I'm not sure if I'll be able to change Corinna's mind completely, but this new angle is as good a one as any. It's a start.

* * *

_5 Heartfire, 4E208_

She uses her left hand to hold a pencil, like I do.

She's huddled over the table with her nose almost brushing the paper she's drawing on, and I think it's kind of funny how Amara looks almost exactly the same, only over a book. According to her—or at least what I've understood of it—she and Leon are working on some kind of big monograph meant to put that mage Calcelmo to shame.

There's a book on the table for me, too. It's about the Dwemer, of course, because I think it'd be nice if I could comprehend even a little of what Amara's rambling about half the time, but I just don't have the patience for reading that she has.

Corinna doesn't have it, either, despite all Amara's efforts. She can read and write well enough, I suppose, but she seems to prefer pictures over words. I can certainly relate.

My fingers are tapping against the arm of my chair, but I don't realize how loud it is until Amara starts glowering. I stop and make a kind of apologetic expression.

It's so quiet in here. Even if I didn't have a Wolf's hearing, I bet I'd be able to hear a pin drop from across the room. The books in here don't even make a rustling noise when you turn the pages, since they're enchanted not to. The whole of it just makes me itchy, honestly, though I fight not to fidget too much. I don't need any more dirty looks today.

"_Lydia_," comes the disapproving hiss from those pretty lips. Even my kid's giving me a flat stare. Oh—both my legs were bouncing. How was that even making any noise?

I cross my legs and fold my hands. I can't even smoke in here. _As if the books would burn… they're probably enchanted against that, too_. And, of course, that book Amara's digging through is one of those rare old restricted ones that _cannot leave the walls of the Arcanaeum, under any circumstance_.

I close my eyes and try to get calm. Sitting still has never been an easy task for me. I'm not like Amara: I can't sit in one spot for hours on end and just study and _think_. I can't just fall into thought like she does all the time. She can drift off mid-conversation, then come back like nothing's happened and there was never any pause. As for me, I have to admit that it's hard for me to separate my mind from my body.

I count all the beating hearts in the room. _Twenty-seven_. Two of them are beating a little fast for what you'd expect in a library. I sniff the air: paper, dust, ink, the stink of crotchety old scholars who barely remember what the sun looks like… a hint of sweat and excitement. I smirk, but keep it to myself. Two young students have found a dark corner, it would seem.

I glance up and meet eyes with Amara again, though now she's giving me a questioning look. I make a dismissive gesture, but I keep watching her. I listen to her heartbeat and quiet breathing, and that of our daughter.

The air shifts and then there's a gentle hand brushing my arm. Was my chair creaking too much? Amara stands, closes her book, and puts it on a shelf above her head. Then she gathers all her papers up and puts them in her weird little satchel, motions for Corinna to clean her own stuff up, and then turns to me.

Her expression is kind of hard to read. "Come."

I take Corinna's hand and trail after her, feeling for all the world like I've just poked a sleeping dragon with a stick. She holds the door to the Hall of the Elements open for us.

I turn and talk as soon as she shuts it. "I know you said I could go and hunt while you were busy. I just wanted to try and—"

She cuts me off with a quick kiss on my lips, and then one on my cheek. "You wanted to learn something of my work, I know. But perhaps it should wait for a better time, when you will be able to move about and make noise to your heart's content."

The sound of magical explosions echoes from the other side of the main training hall.

"I'll just uh… go then, I guess?" I shove my hands in my pockets. Amara pulls a little closer, all at once apologetic and comforting.

Her hand still in mine, Corinna gives me a tug. "Can we go watch the mages?"

I'm about to say no and tell her it's because we'll bother them—though if I'm being honest with myself, it's really because I don't want alienate her even more—when I can hear, and smell, a magical blast gone wrong. It's followed by a loud cry of pain.

I'm not sure what I could actually do to help in a situation like this, but I rush toward the sound anyway. I find it soon enough: a training class full of younger adolescents, and one of them's in a crumpled heap on the floor, clutching his arm. The air is filled with the smell of cooked flesh.

"Hroar," I say when I recognize him, and he looks up at me, his teeth gritted together. He's trying his best not to cry.

"Oh _get up_." Nirya, apparently his instructor, towers over him, arms crossed. "You're wasting all our time with your sniveling."

By Talos, she's everything I can't stand in a High Elf.

"He's hurt, in case you haven't noticed," I growl.

She waves it away, ever on her high bedamned High Elf horse. "I would hardly call _that_ an injury. And, mind, this is a class for Destruction magic. Should he rather be coddled by Restoration, then I do believe he should find another instructor."

Light footsteps coming from behind, almost completely silent. A familiar heartbeat.

Looks like she's finally decided to follow me in here.

"I take it you have never acquired the art, then, Nirya." The room falls silent as Amara approaches Hroar, takes his arm, and heals the burn. "A pity to think that young minds will suffer the ignorance of such an… unrounded instructor. And I do admit I am dreadfully curious as to what you might consider a _real_ injury." She stands and allows her magic to crackle over her hands. "_Dreadfully_ curious."

The elf doesn't stand a chance, but at least she's smart enough to know it. "I would rather correct myself and agree to be less discriminate," she says through a scowl.

"Another pity."

Nirya turns and claps her hands twice. "That's enough for today. You are all dismissed." Then she brushes past us without another word, thoroughly pissed and determined to show it. I bite down a grin.

The class files out behind her at differing speeds, all of them glancing back over their shoulders at the Dragonborn. Amara still doesn't make much of an effort to be seen around here, so I'd hazard that some of them are only just now seeing her for the first time.

Only Hroar stays behind. He's already taller than Amara—though that's not much of an accomplishment, honestly—and he's lanky and skinny as any fifteen-year-old ought to be. His eyes are tilted downward, though he does give Corinna a little smile and wave, which she returns, if a bit shyly. "Thank you, Lady Aestus."

"Of course." Amara folds her hands in front of her and tries to look pleasant, but I know her too well to believe it. He reminds her of everything she's trying not to be. "Are you… having difficulty?"

His cheeks color. "I don't want to bother you with it, ma'am."

But she's determined to be something else, I think, even if it means looking her past directly in the eye. She's been doing it for years. "If you should wish it, I will help you."

My throat feels thick as I swallow because his smile is so genuinely grateful. There's so much he doesn't know, and never will. Neither Amara nor I are about to tell him the truth, since it would probably just make him resent his education here, and it doesn't seem like Svenja revealed it to him in her letter, all those years ago.

I don't remember him ever talking about it, after all.


End file.
